


Another Thing Stolen

by fizzygingr



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I mean really I just wrote it way back before canon took a massive dump on our collective heads, Kuron (Voltron) Deserves Better, Protective Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith (Voltron), it's canon-divergent now but it shouldn't be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzygingr/pseuds/fizzygingr
Summary: Keith wants nothing to do with this evil clone that pretended to be Shiro. Shiro, unfortunately, feels differently.





	Another Thing Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to upload all my old tumblr fic to AO3. This was written before season 6, when we still thought Kuron was going to get the life he deserved. Or, uh, a life at all. Not that I'm bitter.
> 
> Also the working title for this was "clone is friend"

Keith held Shiro’

Keith held Shiro’s hand tightly while he slept, as though it would vanish from under his fingers if he loosened his grip. He’d been home maybe half a day, and had been asleep for the majority of it, and Keith was  _ aching  _ to talk to him, to hear from his own lips that he was okay, or just to hear him at all. But he was content for now to cling to that hand like a lifeline, and to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.

 

He kept his gaze there still when he heard a soft knock at the door, and the sound of it sliding open.

 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

 

“Just wanted to see how he’s doing.” 

 

He bristled at the voice. It was Shiro’s voice in every way, except that it wasn’t being used by Shiro at all. Another thing stolen from him, another thing done to him that Keith could never undo.

 

“Asleep,” he said, not bothering to turn his head.

 

The door remained open, and  _ he  _ didn’t leave.

 

“Sleeping pretty still.” Keith desperately hoped he’d get the hint. “Which he needs. Badly.”

 

“Believe me, I know.” The clone dropped his voice to a low whisper and  _ still  _ didn’t move. And Keith felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably at the reminder. Because yeah, this person, whatever he was, still did have to live with everything in Shiro’s head; he hadn’t chosen that any more than Shiro had. Keith knew it was probably wrong to hate him. Shiro himself, in their brief introduction, had seemed baffled and overwhelmed but never angry.

 

But maybe Shiro was too worn down to be angry right now. Maybe Keith had to be angry on his behalf.

 

Shiro stirred and groaned, and Keith decided it wasn’t the time for sympathy.

 

He turned, glaring, and mouthed, “ _ So. Let. Him. _ ”

 

The clone silently held up a water pouch in a placating gesture. Then, keeping both hands raised like this was a hostage negotiation, he slowly approached the bedside table, set it down, and stepped back.

 

“Thanks,” said Shiro, prompting both of them to sharply turn their heads in surprise. He gave Keith’s hand a squeeze before disentangling his fingers, then reached over, took the water pouch, and shakily tried to push himself up to sitting.

 

“Here,” said Keith gently, sliding a hand beneath his back to help him. He instinctively hunched his shoulders, curling protectively around Shiro’s body as a barrier between him and  _ that _ . “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“Better, I think.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Keith recognized the method Shiro had taught him of taking inventory of his body, making a mental note of what hurt and what was tense and what he needed. “Yeah, better. The tingling is, at least. I’m still a little— hey, wait!”

 

Keith followed Shiro’s gaze and saw the clone trying to quietly sneak out the door.

 

“You don’t have to talk to him now, Shiro,” said Keith, once again pointedly  _ not  _ looking at the clone. “It can wait.”

 

“Keith-”

 

“It’s a lot to deal with, and you just got back, and I know he’s safe now or whatever, but that doesn’t mean—”

 

“Keith, it’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay!” Keith could feel the pitch rising in his voice. “He’s the reason we didn’t find you sooner, he made us think it was okay to stop looking—”

 

“Keith it’s okay,” said Shiro again, “He’s like me.”

 

Keith blinked in surprise. “What?” He tried to collect his thoughts, buzzing like a swarm of hornets. Part of him knew what Shiro probably meant, but another, louder part wanted to misunderstand him, to stay angry. “What do you mean?”

 

Shiro looked over Keith’s shoulder when he spoke, directly at the clone still standing in the doorway. “He was used. Controlled. Made into a weapon against his will.” He turned his gaze back to Keith. “Can you hate him for that?”

 

Keith looked away. “Shiro, I didn’t mean…”

 

“I know. But you’re angry at the wrong person.”

 

Keith sighed. “I know.”

 

Shiro looked to the clone again, his face tired but resolute. “I know it’s not my call,” he said, “but if you want to stay, I don’t have a problem with it.”

 

Keith glanced over tentatively, in time to see him shrug in response. “I don’t want to keep stealing your life,” he said.

 

“I don’t want you to, either. I’d much rather you made your own. But maybe you can make it here.”

 

And Keith couldn’t bring himself to echo that, not when Shiro was so newly home again, still weak, drinking water with a hand that shook even while Keith held onto the wrist to steady it. 

 

But he turned to the clone and looked him in the eye, and for Shiro’s sake offered him half a smile.


End file.
